Flying and falling
by moriarty's-tardis
Summary: Role reversal: John is on the roof and Sherlock is standing below. Johnlock. rated M for suicide and mentions of violence.


Role reversal: john is on the roof and Sherlock is below. John's pov... Enjoy

I am standing on the edge of saint Barth's hospital roof with nowhere to look but down. The city is buzzing with life below me. The sky grows duller every second, the city lights get brighter. My palms are sweaty, I'm shaking. I am faced with a choice. A decision no living creature in the universe should have to entertain.

I give a turning glance at the world behind me. There is a dead man lying on the roof. Blood seeping from the bullet wound in the back of his head, pooling on the ground behind him. His eyes, open, staring at me eerily, making me uncomfortable even though no life shone within them. The body had a name, Moriarty. Not that it matters much now.

A name is just a title. A title used to classify. To make the world less confusing; because if someone yelled "human?" every head would turn. Although, Underneath the title, we are all the same. Just a conscious mind in a shell called a body, waiting for the next phase of life. It's quite dreary if you think about it. there really is no point to our existence, and yet why is it so hard for me to let go? To take that final step off of the roof and onto the air in front of me. Moriarty once told me, "Falling's just like flying, except there's a more permanent destination." I finally understand what he meant. What he was talking about. He knew this would happen, he planned it all. I've never felt more respect towards a man who fills me with hatred.

I don't have much time, the clock is ticking, time is running out. The hour glass has one grain of sand left. This is it. This is the decision.

My thoughts are interrupted by a cab pulling up In front of the building. Sherlock gets out. My shaking fingers fumble for my phone as I dial his number. I press the phone to my ear.

No metal has ever felt this cold.

I see him take out his phone and answer at the same moment his voice floods my ear.

"John? Where are you? I just reached saint Barth's." I took a deep breath.

"stop walking and turn around." he slows down at my command.

"but I'm almost to the buil-" my voice wavers as I interrupt him.

"just do it!" he stops, exasperated yet concerned, and turns around saying

"okay okay I'm going back."

I watch him walk across the street and tell him to stop. "okay, look up I'm on the roof." even from here I can see his steel colored eyes trained onto the roof and landing on me. "John what are you-?" his voice declines, not finishing the sentence.

My breathing is becoming shallow. I can't stay up here much longer. My grain of sand is close to the edge of the hole in the hour glass. I can FEEL the time running out, the seconds that weigh a thousand tons are being lifted off of me one by one. I wished they would just crush me, I wish they wouldn't leave but I know they must. I struggle to say something, anything to the detective. I don't know what to say. I try to tell him what happened but I can't. I can only tell him one thing,

"I'm so glad I met you Sherlock." and that's exactly what I said.

What I didn't tell him was Moriarty was up here with me. I didn't tell him that if I don't jump, snipers were going to train their guns on Lestrade, mrs. Hudson, and Sherlock and pull the trigger. What I didn't tell him was that Sherlock means the world to me. That I think about him every waking moment of the day. That I have to jump, and It is for him.

Sherlock, being the observant detective he was,could tell most of this information just by looking at me. I could see the realization in his eyes just as a muffled gasp of horror was sent through the speaker of my phone.

"John no. No I will not let you jump." sherlock's voice was cracking and full of sorrow and anger.

"Sherlock, I have to." I replied a moment later.

"John I WILL NOT LET YOU DIE FOR ME!" Sherlock yelled. I rubbed away the tears streaming from my eyes and said,

"Stop yelling, you will worry people." Sherlock was then hit with the harshness of it all. I could sense that he was completely oblivious of the unwanted tears now falling down his face.

"No, John. I'm coming to get you." Sherlock began to walk towards the building. I yelled into the phone and extended my arm so I was reaching out to the detective.

"No! Sherlock stay where you are!" Sherlock froze in place, his gaze magnetized to my cold fingertips.

"Sherlock? Look at me. Keep your eyes fixed on me." I said into the phone. His eyes locked with mine. Nothing else in the world Matters in this moment. It's just Sherlock and I, nothing else in the world exists. I need to tell him how I feel. I need to. My voice emerges from my throat in a croak,

"Sherlock, there is something you should know before I go."

his angry voice cuts me off, booming through the speaker. "go? You can't go. You can't leave me John! You CAN NOT leave!" I sighed, ignoring the hot tears that won't stop pouring down my face.

"I need you to know that I don't regret being your flat mate. I don't regret helping you with cases. I don't regret anything but the fact that I never got to tell you this. You are the best thing that ever happened to me."

Sherlock was deathly silent on the other end.

"People said I should leave you, that I should give up on you. I didn't because I couldn't. You were alone, and when I came to you, it was like we were two odd and broken pieces that somehow fit together against the odds. I found that I needed you, that I trusted you, that I couldn't live without you. You said you are not a hero, but you will always be a hero to me and I will forever be your blogger." the detective sniffled and spoke so softly I could barely hear his voice, but the words he said were so powerful, I could probably have felt their message from a different planet.

"I love you John."

my heart broke in two. Leaving him was going to be hard enough as it is knowing I love him, but knowing he loves me back is making this so much harder. I give him a broken smile and reply with a strangled voice,

"I-I love you too S-Sherlock. And I'm sorry." Sherlock's tear streaked face is the most beautiful sight I've ever laid my eyes on. His voice, the voice that sends chills through my spine every time I hear it, replies,

"Sorry for what John?" he asks this, but I know that he is thinking the answer.

"I'm sorry that I have to go like this, Knowing how you feel. I'm sorry that I can't kiss those tears away. I'm sorry that it has to end like this." Sherlock's breathing increases in speed, his breath is shaky from crying and I can hear it through the phone.

"There are so many things we haven't done. It doesn't have to be this way! We could have a life together. We could BE together. We could... I don't want you to go." Sherlock half begs/ half demands into the phone. I shake my head.

"And I don't want to leave you." I reply. "But I have to go. And Sherlock?" I pause to make sure he is paying attention. His eyes don't leave me for a second. He replies in an almost inaudible whisper, "yes?" I swallow hard,

"it's been brilliant... Goodbye Sherlock Holmes."

I hear him chanting my name as I drop my phone onto the roof behind me and prepare myself. I hear Sherlock yell my name even louder, yelling for me to stop. I look over at the city and the noise fades away. The skyline is beautiful. The people will continue with their lives as if nothing happened, when I'm gone. Not that I would expect them to do anything otherwise. The world will continue turning, I just won't be there to see it. I wonder what kissing Sherlock would be like. I wonder if he will think about kissing me and what it would be like, when I'm gone.

I keep saying "gone", But in fact I will never be gone. My body will remain here, my soul will leave my body but my physical form will stay. I glance over at Sherlock, who is yelling my name. I close my eyes and the image of him remains. I spread out my arms and lean forward.

Im flying.

Im falling.

The wind rushes at my face. The last thing I imagine before I hit the hard earth below is the image of Sherlock Holmes. The image of the world's only consulting detective. The man I love with all my heart. His smile is the last thing I see before a flash of white light, and then... My clock stops ticking. The last grain of sand falls. And do you know what? I regret nothing. nothing at all.

Im lying, a split second away from death, on the ground in front of saint Barth's hospital with nowhere to look but up.


End file.
